


Silence Is Golden

by 221A_brina



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Bad Puns, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Kissing, Puns & Word Play, Romance, Snogging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-09
Updated: 2016-11-09
Packaged: 2018-08-30 00:00:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8510974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221A_brina/pseuds/221A_brina
Summary: Phryne and Jack have a night at the pictures courtesy of Mac. Puns and passions abound.





	1. Just the Ticket

**Author's Note:**

> This phic was inspired by/based on something that actually happened to me in real life. It felt like a Phrack kinda thing. Explanation is the Epilogue. Chapter 3 is where the steamy scenes are. Skip to or away from at your pleasure.

“How many times do I have to remind you to be careful?! Particularly when you’re acting… without thinking… on your hair-brained ideas. Especially when attempting a break and enter,” Dr. Elizabeth McMillan continued chastising her frustrating and oldest friend as she removed an ice pack from said friend’s swelling right ring finger. 

“It wasn’t hair-brained… it…” Phryne Fisher started, her lips turning down in the beginnings of a pout. 

Mac cut her off. “Function over fashion, darling. You know better. Or at the least, function before fashion.” She reached for a dry towel to dab the hand dry. 

“How was I to predict my ring would catch on the window jamb?” Phryne demurred, eyelashes batting. 

Mac huffed and rolled her eyes skyward. She set down the towel and walked to her desk and reached into the bottom drawer and removed a flat, slender, metal object. Walking back, she pushed the flask towards Phryne’s uninjured hand. ”Now take your 'medicine' like a good girl, before we have company.” 

“Yes, doctor,” Phryne rolled her eyes as she obediently downed the whiskey and set the flask on the side board. 

“Gimme.” Mac waggled her fingers as she held her hand out for Phryne’s, causing a loud hissing intake of breath as they made contact. 

“Oh, don’t be such a baby.” The doctor applied an ointment and bandage to the patient's finger. "Just stay off it for a few days." 

"And how do you propose I do that?" Phryne chuckled, eyes bright. 

"You'll figure it out. You always do," Dr. McMillan rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Oh, and here," Mac pulled two slips of paper from her lab coat pocket, and handed them to her friend. 

"What's this?" Phryne queried, grabbing the papers and perusing them. 

Mac waived her hand back and forth in a dismissive motion. "The hospital ran a raffle. One of the prizes was for cinema tickets, which I didn't actually want. Imagine my surprise when I won them." She chuffed. "So... I figured I could pawn them off on you and come out as magnanimous on two fronts." She emphasized her words as she raised two fingers. "Donate to a good cause, and give you a good excuse to find yourself in a dark theatre with the male of your choice." Her eyes rolled again accompanied by raised eyebrows and sideways smirk. Mac leaned on the sideboard and refocused on the body before her. 

"Ooh... this should be fun," Phryne's face lit up, as she tucked the tickets into her handbag. 

The door to the morgue opened to reveal Detective Inspector Jack Robinson in his ubiquitous overcoat, fedora in hand. 

Mac looked up from the corpse, a wash of unabashed mischief played across her face as she greeted the room's newest occupant. "Ah...speak of the devil, and he shall appear," her voice lilted in a sing song cadence. 

Without missing a beat, Jack quipped, "And what is it they say about 'the devil you know'?" He kept his face schooled, only letting an inkling of a smirk creep to the edge of his lips as he continued. "Dr. McMillan," he inclined his head towards the copper-haired physician. "What can you tell me about the victim's cause of death?" 

Jack let his gaze travel over to the doctor's cohort. Canting his head and wrinkling his brow, he inclined his chin in Phryne's direction as he noticed her bandaged finger. "Miss Fisher," he acknowledged. 

"Nice of you to join us, Jack." Phryne's voice ascended in pitch. 

The three of them gathered closer as Mac began her rundown. "There's severe petechial hemorrhaging in the eyes and the markings on the neck indicate strangulation most likely due to a thin wire or garrote." She indicated to the requisite body parts as she spoke. "Pretty straight forward, but I'm still waiting on test results to completely eliminate poison." 

"Mmm." Jack acknowledged. 

"I'll leave it to you to find the murder weapon, then," the doctor concluded as she pulled the sheet over the deceased man's face. 

"I'll have Collins go over Mr. Cosford's flat again to see what may have been missed." He rotated his hat in his hands as he was wont to do. 

Phryne looked sheepishly towards the Inspector as she admitted, "I didn't see anything that would fit the bill when I was there earlier." Her eyes and brows traveled skyward as her voice and shoulder climbed to join them. 

Jack touched his forefinger to the bridge of his nose as his head briefly bowed, then turned to face the woman who continued to vex him. "And can I rightly assume that's where you acquired this most recent injury?" He extended his empty hand towards her bandaged hand which she placed in his, slightly wincing. 

Miss Fisher's shoulders bobbed. "Just a minor disagreement between a ring and a window jamb." 

Dr. McMillan moved towards the conversants in an attempt to shoo them out. "Out! The two of you. Then maybe I can get some work done. You," she emphasized by pointing at Phryne, "stay off that hand. If it's throbbing too much, put a bit of ice on it for another 10 minutes." 

Phryne gathered her handbag from the table as she turned to leave. 

"And you," Mac aimed towards Jack, his eyes growing larger, "if you promise to keep her out of my hair for the rest of the evening, I'm sure she would be more than happy to reward you with a night at the pictures courtesy of the hospital raffle." Mac's face deadpanned. 

The detective's Adam's apple bobbed and his countenance stilled. His fingers, previously busy twiddling his hat, froze in place. 

Phryne perked up and threaded her arm through his, leading him out the door. "So Jack... what kind of films do you enjoy when you are studiously avoiding them?" she asked him, nearly floating out the door on his arm. As they strolled down the hallway, the Inspector wondered precisely just what he had been roped into.


	2. Nightcap for Starters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wait for it... almost there...

When Jack arrived at Wardlow that evening, Mr. Butler ushered him in, took his hat and coat and announced, "The Inspector for you, Miss." 

"Thank you Mr. Butler," Phryne smiled at him as Jack came into view through the parlor door. 

"Would you care for a drink before we leave, Jack?" she asked from her perch on the window seat. 

The Inspector looked at his watch, then back to Miss Fisher. "I think we might have time for a quick one," he let the double entendre hang in the air as he looked straight faced at his hostess, the merest glint of flirtation gracing his eyes. 

Phryne's eyes grew large as she barely managed to keep in check a retort that threatened to dance off her tongue. She unfolded herself from the window seat, grinning as she reached for the crystal decanter and dispensed the amber liquid into a tumbler and handed it to him. 

Jack tucked into the piano bench as he accepted the offered libation. 

"To Mac's generosity... and a night at the pictures," she raised her glass she offered up the toast. Jack followed suit, glasses clinking. "Doctor's orders, after all." 

He cocked his head, a small lopsided smile emanated from his lips and eyes as he downed the smooth liquid in one swallow. 

Phryne finished her drink, set down the tumbler and rose, gliding to the hallway to fetch her wrap and handbag. "Shall I drive?" 

Jack picked up her wrap and offered it to her, gently placing it on her delicate shoulders. His expressive hands lingered slightly longer than propriety allowed, his hands ghosting her arms from shoulders to elbows as he allowed his eyes to stroke along her porcelain skin. 

"I think, Miss Fisher, with your current injury, you may not be in top driving form. Perhaps you'd allow me to do the honors? We can take my motorcar." He reached for his coat and draped it on his arm and grabbed his hat from the hook, settling it on his head. 

"Well... seeing as I'm in no fit state to wrestle you for it..." her grin bloomed wide reaching the outermost edges of her face. "In this instance, I shall bow to your gallant offer, Inspector." Her smile flooded her eyes. She gathered her handbag and nestled her left hand on Jack's arm and they ambled out the front door. 

The time passed swiftly and amiably on the way to the theatre as they discussed elements of their current case, brainstorming and bandying about a number of theories, several of which they were anxious to test out come morning.


	3. What Happens in the Theatre Stays in the Theatre?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things start getting hot in the dark.

They arrived at the theatre with time to spare. The film was well attended, but the house was not completely full. Jack proffered his hand ahead indicating Phryne should precede him. "Where would you like to sit, Miss Fisher?" 

Her gaze surveyed the lighted seating area and found a pocket of empty seats midway into the auditorium. "How about over there?" she said, pointing to the area in mind. 

"After you," Jack nodded in assent, following close behind her, his hand poised at the small of her back. Once they arrived, he draped his overcoat on the empty chair next to him, and set his hat atop it. He then offered to take her wrap, sandwiching it in between his coat and hat. 

They settled into their seats, shoulders snugged together, and tucked in for the show. By the time the one-reelers and the Wurlitzer extravaganza were through, Jack was anxious for the main attraction to begin. 

"I understand this film is a ghost story of sorts," Phryne volunteered as the opening credits began to roll. Jack rolled his eyes and huffed. "Now Jack..." she continued in a hushed tone, "give it a chance. You never know, it might be fun," she scolded him tenderly. 

"If I must, Miss Fisher," his reply slipped from his lips, one corner of his mouth turning up in response, willing to play along. 

As the film got underway, Phryne began to feel more playful, laughing at some of the more exaggerated scenes that were intended to be serious, humor bubbling up to the surface. "I'd say that fellow doesn't stand a ghost of a chance," she murmured, leaning towards Jack's shoulder, as a spirit floated across the screen. 

"Dead right," Jack rumbled, getting into the game. 

Phryne was taken aback at his immediate ripost but was delightfully pleased that he joined in. "Though he does remind me of someone I know. Someone who has that lean hungry look." Her warm breath caressed his ear, lips a hair's breadth away from grazing the sensitive skin of his lobe, while her hand glanced down the edge of his jacket lapel. 

"A wisp of thing, no doubt," his mouth twitched, voice deep and throaty, eyes sparkling with delight and arousal. He was thoroughly enjoying their banter of one upsmanship. Miss Fisher countering and topping each of his attempts, whilst he endeavored to do the same. Her witticisms illustrating once again, her intelligence and humor. Two of the many qualities he admired in her. 

Their volleying continued with the occasional 'shush' from nearby patrons (followed by a strangled coquettish giggle and a low rumbling chuckle, heads canted towards each other conspiratorially). Thankfully they were relatively isolated from the other attendees, their choice of seating amazingly prescient. 

Some time later, after a particularly groan-worthy pun from Miss Fisher, Jack bit his tongue deciding he needed to issue an ultimatum, else the madness might never cease, and they'd be banned from the theatre (not that he'd overly lament the loss. But then again... tonight had shown him a side of the pictures that he hadn't encountered before. One that he was rather thoroughly enjoying. Especially with the dark of the theatre affording them another level of intimacy along with a veil of anonymity. And after all, he _was_ a respectable officer of the law. _Some_ semblance of propriety must be maintained.) 

"Miss Fisher," he began, his voice low and sonorous caressing her ear as he spoke. "It would not bode well if I, an officer of the law, let alone you, were forcibly removed from this establishment for being disruptive. Imagine what that would do to our reputations." His voice rough, his face showed momentary panic dusted with caution and a hint of laughter. His eyes pleading with her to grasp the gravity of the situation. 

"Oh don't be such a spoilsport, Detective Inspector," she whispered, her fingers making a slow feather light crawl up his sleeve, forefinger landing on his chest with a gentle poke. 

"Phryne! If you do not cease and desist, you'll get us thrown out!" he hissed through pursed lips that broke out into a repressed smile. "And because of your outlandish behavior, I'm afraid I must issue a moratorium on our verbal fencing." 

"But Jaaack... we've been having ever so much fun!" Her words warmed the side of his cheek sending a surge of electricity along his jawline. She waggled her brows and threaded her lower lip through her teeth in a slow suggestive manner. 

"Miss Fisher... " he warned, drawing out her name, his voice lowering an octave. His resonant tone rained a tingling sensation from the crown of her head along her raven bob and down her spine. 

"And what if I don't?" she pushed, daring him, egging him on. A mischievous yet devilish glint flashed in her eyes, her shoulders shrugged and pressed into his. 

"In light of your current behavior, Miss Fisher," Jack leaned his head next to her ear, his breath separating strands of her hair, aurally stroking the top curve of her delicate ear, "it seems I may be reduced to resorting to one of two drastic measures in order to silence you. One would be to spank you..." His gravelly whisper reverberated over her cheekbone sending a wave of desire flooding through her body at his bold and unconventional suggestion. "The other, to kiss you." And with those words, every nerve ending in her body ignited. 

"So, Inspector... what are you going to do?" Phryne asked in breathless anticipation. 

"Well, Miss Fisher... seeing as you've been injured today, I would not wish to cause you any further pain." The Inspector let the sentence hang mid-air. He watched the play of emotions flit across her face. They sat frozen in a moment that seemed to stretch on for an eternity, yet evaporate in the whisper of an instant. He paused, reveling in their juxtaposition and Miss Fisher's uncharacteristic stunned silence. A desirous spark flickered in his eyes, the beginnings of indecent smile danced at the corner of his lips. With a fluid and deliberate motion he turned to face her vermilion lips. His long expressive fingers gently threaded through the raven silk of her hair and settled on her smooth porcelain nape. Golden lashes dipped briefly. Warmed by her breath, his lips hovered just above hers, pins and needles skittering across the sensitive surface. His lips gentled on hers in a chaste kiss, the contact creating a line of low humming electricity both sweet and fiery. Their lips remained connected and only reluctantly separated when he pulled back. Her painted lips pulled on his as if they had a mind of their own, not wanting to break the glorious and sensuous contact, not wanting to part from their true match, as if the paint itself could act as an adhesive keeping them connected. 

Their eyes locked shutting out their surroundings as everything disappeared and melted away. Everything but the heat and desire that radiated between them. 

Phryne threaded her hands through his lapels and pulled him closer to avail herself of his luscious lips. Lips that tasted like a mixture of whiskey and spice, and something so nice, so... indefinably Jack. He was like a drug that threatened to overwhelm her pleasure center, leaving her wet and wanting. 

All reason quickly evacuated Jack Robinson's mind and body as she drew him into a deep and passionate kiss. Phryne was a heady mixture of French perfume, whiskey, and a sweet lightness he couldn't identify but knew to be very much a part of her essence. Jack's arm curled around her shoulders, drew her closer and she folded into his embrace. Their fervid desire stoked the flames in his belly and shot straight down, filling and tightening his trousers. 

Phryne's ardor leapt in response to his heat. Her lips tingled at his gentle touch. Her tongue hungrily demanding a tango with his. A wave of electricity ignited every nerve ending on its way to her core. 

Jack pulled back slowly, lips parting reluctantly, breaths intermingling. He leaned back in his seat, a delighted smile burgeoning on his face. He was quite certain this had to be his new favorite way to silence her. He stretched his arm behind her seat to settle it across her shoulders. Leaning into her he queried, "Shall we see how this picture ends, Miss Fisher?" 

Phryne opened her mouth to respond as Jack focused his half-lidded gaze on her. Turning towards him, she hesitated momentarily, then began to reply. "Well, Jack," a wide grin blossomed on her face, "as I haven't seen this..." 

He cut her off as his mouth took possession of hers, swallowing her words and conveying to her that silence was, indeed golden. 

Some time later, a red capped usher cleared his throat causing the couple to jolt and flush as they quickly became aware of their surroundings. When they separated they realized that, save for the three of them, the theatre was completely vacant. 

Jack and Phryne exited the theatre and ambled to his motorcar, hand in hand. For several still moments, they stood, his back against the door, Miss Fisher facing him, hands threading his coat lapels. With her 'good hand' she grasped his tie just below the knot and drew him in within a hair's breadth of her face, their bodies sharing a layer of radiating heat between them. 

"Shall we continue our conversation in a more private setting, Jack?" A mischievous twinkle flared in her glittering blue eyes. 

A conspiratorial grin that lit up his face was his only answer. 

If you asked them later, neither could recall with any clarity precisely how the film ended. 

 

________________________________________________________________________________________ 

 

**Epilogue or Yes. This really did happen... to me. Who'd'a thunk?:**

This story is based on an incident that actually happened to me in real life. It was the Saturday evening of a convention I was attending. I was in costume and one of the accessories was an adjustable ring. Something happened that caused my fingers to swell in a kind of allergic reaction and the ring became stuck on my finger and began to cut into the skin of my finger. I started to freak out because I couldn't get the ring off. Someone suggested I try hand soap to loosen it, so I ran into one of the hotel restrooms in the convention area. There were several ladies in the restroom who helped me remove my ring before my hand became a bloody mess. (An ice pack and band-aid solved the problem.)

A guy in costume (Jareth from the film "Labyrinth" and yeah... he was hot!) had seen what was going on before I went into the restroom and was outside when I exited. He seemed quite concerned at my distress, and was very kind. We wound up chatting for a while. (I'm a sucker for David Bowie in this film! PS – one of my all time fave films.) After a bit, we each went back to our respective rooms to get out of costume. Later, we encountered each other in the con's film room. The movie being shown? Ghostbusters (the original). We wound up sitting next to each other. He asked how I was – if I was ok in regards to what had happened earlier in the evening. He was very sweet and worried about my well being. He also happened to be a prize punster, hence the ghosty/spirit/dead puns. Little did he know, I am quite accomplished in that area as well. 

We riffed one pun after the other, trying to best the other at each turn. He remarked that he was both surprised and delighted that I could keep up with his punning pace. When he felt that enough was enough, he said to me "There's two ways to shut you up." I asked what would those ways be. #1 was (yes, honest to god!) to spank me. # 2 was to kiss me. And, yes, he did say that considering what I'd gone through that evening, he didn't wish to cause me further harm. Of course I asked him what he was going to do. He kissed me. We wound up dating for 1 ½ yrs. Stranger than fiction? Or art imitating life. 


End file.
